Zindagi Ke Rang ~ Rangad/Kabirima/Amritam FF

The meaning of Zindagi shifts depending on an individual's perspective. This story delves into the journey of ordinary people-how they embrace life with all its trials and tribulations, finding the courage to live it with joy in their hearts.

Character sketches & Introduction:

Pritam Choudhary is an upright and principled police officer whose life has been shaped by a series of personal and professional hardships—battles born out of his unwavering commitment to duty and the lingering pain of a failed first love. However, a new chapter begins in his zindagi when he unexpectedly falls in love again—this time with Amrita Sakhuja, a resilient young widow of a COVID warrior.

Pritam's journey intertwines with those of Amrita's brothers-in-law, Angad and Kabir Sakhuja—two men who are also navigating their own struggles and responsibilities. As fate would have it, both brothers find themselves drawn to the same woman, leading to a tangled web of emotions and difficult choices between family loyalty and personal happiness.

Note: This story was originally written and published on another forum, Zindagi Mere Ghar Aana Forum. With the permission of the original author, the previously published parts will be reposted here, and the continuation of the story will follow.

The story retains the original cast from the television series Zindagi Mere Ghar Aana. The main characters featured are:

Pritam Choudhary

Vishaka Choudhary

Amrita Sakhuja

Angad Sakhuja

Kabir Sakhuja

Meera Sehgal

Rima Sinha

In addition to the primary cast, Pritam's close friends, Nitin and Monty, as well as Kabir's friends, Sunny and Ronny, play significant roles in the narrative. Key supporting characters also include members of the Sakhuja and Sehgal families, the family advocate, and Mr. Mansoor, who reprises his role from the original series.

The only new character introduced in this version is Rima Sinha, a pivotal addition who was not part of the original show. She will be portrayed by Anahita Bhooshan.

I've always yearned for a tender love story between Pritam and Vishaka—something as heartfelt and layered as the one we witnessed between Amrita and Karan. But all the writers seem to show us is Vishaka's relentless resentment toward Pritam.

Personally, I believe that to hate someone so intensely, you must have loved them just as deeply once. And that only strengthens my belief that Pritam and Vishaka were, at one point, profoundly in love.

So here's a short excerpt—a fleeting glimpse into what their love might have looked like before everything fell apart.

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Chapter 1

Summer 2011, Vivekanada Institute of Professional Studies, Delhi

Vishaka, a final-year journalism student, rushed out of the college gates, her heart racing as fast as her footsteps. Today was crucial—she was on her way to complete the final leg of an investigative assignment that could win her the prestigious Best Student Award from the Journalism Department.

As she hurried to retrieve her scooty from the parking area, her focus slipped for a moment. In her haste, she backed it right into a parked open jeep with a loud clang. That was the first time Vishaka and Pritam came face to face.

"Where the hell were you looking while driving?!" she snapped, glaring at the tall guy who'd just emerged from the jeep.

Pritam raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Madam, Wahe Guru has blessed you with two eyes too. Didn't you notice the No Parking board before leaving your vehicle here?" he asked, pointing behind her.

Vishaka turned around, saw the sign, and let out an awkward sigh. Busted.

Embarrassed, she turned back to Pritam, who added, "So now what? Are you going to pay for the scratch on my jeep, or shall we sort this out at the police station?"

Panic flitted across Vishaka's face as she glanced at her watch—she was already running late. She quickly rummaged through her bag for her wallet, only to find it empty.

Without hesitation, she slid the antique silver ring off her finger—an heirloom she had never parted with before—and dropped it into Pritam's hand. "This is worth more than that scratch. Keep it—and let me go!"

Before he could protest, she jumped onto her scooty and sped off, leaving Pritam standing stunned with the ring still warm in his palm.

Confused but intrigued, Pritam got into his jeep and drove off to his posting.

Later That Day – Police Station, Delhi

As Pritam tried to enter his new office, the gate constables blocked his way.

"Excuse me, sir. Who are you?" one of them asked, firm but respectful.

Before he could respond, two officers—Nitin and Monty—rushed up.

"He's Pritam Choudhary, IPS. Fresh out of the Academy," Nitin explained with a grin.

The constables quickly straightened and saluted. Pritam smiled back, his tone calm. "I appreciate your diligence. It's honesty like this that makes a real officer."

As they walked inside together, Monty nudged him. "But bhai, why aren't you in uniform on your first day?"

Pritam ran a hand through his hair, looking mildly irritated. "Thanks to that girl," he muttered without thinking.

Nitin and Monty exchanged amused looks.

"Girl?" Nitin echoed.

Monty grinned. "So, Pritam Choudhary, IPS, already found his first case... or his first crush?"

"Shut up," Pritam retorted, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. "It was just a roadside argument. I didn't get time to go back and change. Now tell me—what's more important? The girl or our duty?"

That shut them up.

Nitin cleared his throat. "Alright, sir. DCP wants us to begin work on a major case—a dangerous drug racket running through Delhi."

Pritam's expression turned serious. "Good. Then let's get to work."

Elsewhere in Delhi – Abandoned Playground Near School Grounds

Vishaka parked her scooty a few streets away and moved swiftly through the shadows, her camera in hand. She had tracked the location of a drug drop-off after days of undercover investigation, and now she stood across from the fenced boundary of an old playground—one that had become a secret meeting point for the city's most elusive drug peddler.

Behind the trees, she spotted them—menacing-looking men handing over packets to young, unsuspecting schoolboys. She zoomed in, hit record, and captured everything—the faces, the exchange, the sly whispers.

A triumphant smile spread across her face. This is it.
"This time, nothing can stop me from winning that award," she whispered to herself.

As she turned to leave, her foot caught on a protruding root. She stumbled, crashing to the ground with a thud.

The sudden noise alarmed the dealers. One of them looked directly toward her hiding spot.

"Who's there?!"

Vishaka's breath caught in her throat. She scrambled to her feet, clutching her camera. The peddler lunged forward, but Vishaka didn't wait. She dashed toward her scooty, weaving through the alleys as the men shouted behind her.

Heart pounding, she rode away, not daring to look back.

Meanwhile – Police Station, Delhi

Back at the station, Pritam had changed into his crisp IPS uniform. Now seated in the briefing room with Nitin and Monty—collectively known among their batchmates as "PriNiMo"—he was deep in conversation.

"All signs point to a resurgence of that notorious drug ring. The kingpin's operating more boldly now—targeting school kids," Nitin said, frowning.

"We need intel. Something strong enough to justify a full-blown operation," Monty added.

Just then, Pritam's phone buzzed.

Mansoor Uncle calling.

He stepped aside to answer. "Salaam, Uncle. Everything alright?"

Mansoor Khan, a senior advocate and long-time family friend, responded, "Pritam, I just received something major—a credible lead on that drug peddler you've been chasing. Come to my office immediately."

Pritam didn't waste a second. "On our way."

At Mansoor Khan's Office – South Delhi Press Club

As Pritam pushed open the glass door to Mansoor's office, he collided into someone.

It was Vishaka.

Startled, she stepped back. "You?!"

Pritam blinked, equally surprised. "Are you always this clumsy, or does it only happen when I'm around?"

Vishaka scowled. "Excuse me?!"

Monty leaned toward Pritam, grinning. "You two know each other?"

Pritam muttered, "She's the same one who made me late this morning."

Nitin burst out laughing. "Ohh! The ring girl!"

Vishaka crossed her arms. "So, you're a cop?"

Pritam gestured at his uniform. "No, I'm a fisherman. I just wear this for fun."

Rolling her eyes, she pushed past him. "Unbelievable," she muttered before walking off.

Nitin shook his head. "You might want to tone it down when you're talking to women, sir."

"We're here to serve the country, not start a dating service," Pritam retorted, brushing past them into the cabin.

Inside Mansoor's Office

Mansoor Uncle welcomed them with a warm smile. "Good to see you, boys. I have something that might help you crack the case."

He handed them a file and a flash drive.

"These were given to me by a student journalist—Vishaka. She stumbled across a drug exchange and managed to record everything."

Pritam's eyes narrowed. "Wait... the girl who just left?"

Mansoor nodded. "Yes. She's smart and brave. Almost got caught today while filming."

Monty chuckled. "Looks like fate wants you two to be partners."

Pritam groaned softly and rubbed his forehead.

Nitin smirked. "Well, buddy, looks like the only way forward is to go back and convince her to cooperate with us. No other option."

Pritam stared at the door through which Vishaka had exited.

"This is going to be fun," Monty teased.

"I'd rather take on the drug cartel," Pritam muttered under his breath.

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To be continued

Chapter 2

The Next Day – Outside Vivekananda Institute of Professional Studies

Pritam stood outside the college gates, arms crossed, muttering under his breath,
"Can you believe this? I—Pritam Choudhary—the same Pritam who's never tried to impress a woman in his entire life, is now standing here... waiting for one. And all in the name of duty!"

Just then, Vishaka emerged from the gates. The moment her eyes met his, she quickened her pace, hopped onto her scooty, and zoomed off without a word.

Over the Following Week

Each day, Pritam returned to the same spot, hoping to get a word with her.
Each day, Vishaka managed to vanish the moment she spotted him.
It became a routine—Pritam approaching, Vishaka fleeing.
This silent game of cat and mouse continued for seven straight days.

The Eighth Day

This time, Pritam came prepared.

Holding a bouquet of white roses in front of his face, he approached Vishaka. Just as she turned to bolt, he swiftly stepped in front of her and caught her by the wrist. Closing his eyes in frustration, he blurted out:

"Unbelievable. You've turned an IPS officer into a roadside Majnu! For the past week, I've been chasing you around just to talk, and you keep running away! I'm not here to flirt—I need your help to catch the most wanted drug peddler in this city. But instead, you've made this feel like a hide-and-seek championship!"

He let go of her hand and slowly opened his eyes, expecting an empty road.

But Vishaka was still standing there.

Instead of running, she burst into laughter. "An IPS officer turned into a Majnu... for me? Now that's impressive."

She laughed heartily while Pritam looked around, flustered, as passersby started watching the scene.

"Alright, alright, show's over!" he waved the crowd away.

Turning back to Vishaka, he said seriously, "Listen, I really need your help to catch that criminal. So can you—" he paused, sighed, and corrected himself, "—please help me?"

Vishaka raised an eyebrow, amused. "Sorry, what was that? I didn't quite hear you."

Pritam rolled his eyes, took a deep breath again, and repeated, "Madam, can you please help me catch that criminal?"

Smiling, she replied, "Well, since you're requesting so sweetly, and since it'll help my academic record too... I guess I can help."

She turned to leave but added, "Let's meet tomorrow at Café Coffee Day, Pitampura. We'll discuss everything there."

As she rode off, Pritam threw up his hands. "Amazing! I've never even asked a woman for coffee in my life, and Madam here has already scheduled a meeting like it's a date! Women..."

The Next Day – Police Quarters

Pritam got dressed in casuals, preparing for the café meeting.

As he stepped out, Nitin and Monty spotted him and smirked.

"The Pritam we know has never taken a woman out for coffee," Nitin said.

Monty added, "And today he's all set to sip cappuccino with someone he's known for a week? Interesting..."

Pritam grumbled, "Shut up, it's all for duty."

Monty winked. "Oh? Who said you were going on a date?"

The two burst into laughter as Pritam shook his head and walked off, muttering, "I need new colleagues."

At Café Coffee Day, Pitampura

Pritam arrived a few minutes late and spotted Vishaka seated at a corner table, casually sipping her cold coffee. He walked over and sat beside her with a firm expression.

"Next time you want to discuss something important," he said, "don't call me to a café. Come to the station instead."

Vishaka frowned. "Why? Are you allergic to coffee, or do I just look like a criminal to you?"

Pritam replied flatly, "I don't drink coffee. And for the record, not just criminals—even normal people walk into police stations."

Vishaka gave him a quick once-over, from head to toe, and muttered under her breath, "I can see that."

Pritam narrowed his eyes. "Did you say something?"

"No," she replied quickly, shifting gears. "Anyway, don't worry—there won't be a need for us to meet again. Just before you arrived, I got a solid lead. The peddler's moving drugs today, and we need to act now."

Pritam sat upright, startled. "Now? But I haven't even briefed my team—"

"Then call them," Vishaka interrupted. "Tell them the location and ask them to get there on time. We don't have a second to waste."

Without hesitation, Pritam dialed Nitin and Monty, filling them in. As he continued on the call, Vishaka stood up and said, "If we don't leave right now, he'll slip through again."

Pritam followed her outside and moved toward his police jeep when she stopped him.

"It's better we go on my scooty," she said. "If he sees a police vehicle, he'll vanish."

Pritam nodded. "Fine, hand me the keys."

She smirked. "I don't let anyone drive my scooty. You'll have to sit behind me."

Pritam groaned in mild protest, but eventually relented.

The Scooty Ride

As Vishaka revved the engine, the scooty lurched forward suddenly, causing Pritam to bump his head against her helmet.

"Ow! Can you please not treat this like a Formula 1 race?" he grumbled, rubbing his forehead.

She smirked but gave the accelerator another aggressive push. This time, Pritam instinctively held her shoulders for balance—only to pull his hands away awkwardly and mumble, "Before I arrest that drug peddler, I should've arrested the RTO who gave you a license."

"Did you say something?" she called out.

"Focus on the road," he replied tersely, "and let's reach the location, not Yamraj's door."

Vishaka, now more annoyed than amused, began driving even more rashly. Pritam clung to the back of the scooty, trying to keep as much distance as possible between them without falling off.

By the time they arrived, Pritam stepped off and muttered, "Never again. No matter what happens, I'm never sitting behind a woman on a scooty."

The Operation

Vishaka grabbed his hand and signaled him to stay quiet, pointing to the peddler just a few steps away. They began approaching silently, careful not to draw attention.

As Vishaka turned to pull out her phone and record the scene, she suddenly realized Pritam was no longer beside her.

She spun around—only to find herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

The peddler stood there, eyes cold and lips curled into a malicious grin.
"So... you've come again? This time, you won't be walking out. Because you won't be alive to go back."

Vishaka froze, eyes shut tight, fists clenched in terror.

Then—BANG!

A gunshot echoed. Vishaka screamed and instinctively checked her body in panic. To her astonishment, she was unharmed.

As her eyes fluttered open, she saw the peddler writhing on the ground, blood oozing from his hand.

Opposite him stood Pritam, gun still raised, smoke curling from the barrel.

He had looped around, anticipating an ambush. The moment he saw the peddler pull a weapon, he'd fired.

The Hug

Vishaka ran straight toward him and threw her arms around him in sheer relief.

Pritam stiffened at the sudden hug, momentarily taken aback—just in time for Nitin and Monty to arrive and witness the embrace.

"Well, well," Monty teased, nudging Nitin. "Looks like someone found more than just a lead today."

Pritam shot them a glare and gestured at the peddler. "Go handle him!"

Suppressing laughter, the two officers grabbed the peddler, handcuffed him, and began dragging him away.

As they passed Vishaka—who still hadn't let go of Pritam—the peddler sneered, "You and your boyfriend ruined everything. I swear, I won't spare either of you."

Pritam's face turned a shade pinker at the word boyfriend, while Nitin and Monty struggled to suppress their laughter behind him.

Monty gave the drug peddler a hearty smack on the back of his head and said mockingly,
"Oh Mister, let me introduce you properly—he's Pritam Chaudhary, IPS. You can keep mouthing off your threats to him once you reach the station... but sorry, his girlfriend won't be there to hold his hand."

Nitin chuckled and added, "Yeah, keep the couple talk going—might lighten up your charges."

Both burst into laughter as they dragged the peddler toward the police van.

Behind them, Pritam stood fuming, yelling after them,
"Hello! Peddler saheb! Just for your information—this girl is not my girlfriend, and I am not her boyfriend. Get that into your thick head!"

Vishaka, who had composed herself by now, rolled her eyes and said dryly,
"They're gone, Officer. Can't hear your love-life disclaimers anymore."

Pritam turned to her with a scowl. "What was the need to hug me like that, huh?"

Vishaka crossed her arms. "Oh, come off it. I didn't hug you because I was desperate or because you're some kind of Greek god in uniform. It was a reflex, okay? A fear response—nothing more."

She picked up her bag and brushed her hair out of her face with mild irritation.
"Anyway, your job's done, right? So no need to assure me, contact me, or get accidentally hugged by me again."

With that, she spun on her heel and walked away, muttering something under her breath that Pritam couldn't quite catch—but he was sure it wasn't flattering.

Left standing alone, Pritam stared after her, exasperated, and finally threw his hands up.
"Women!" he sighed, shaking his head.

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To be continued

Chapter 3

At the Police Station – The Day After

The atmosphere inside the station was lighter than usual. The dynamic trio—Pritam, Nitin, and Monty—cheerfully celebrated the successful completion of their first major task: nabbing the most wanted drug peddler in Delhi.

As the laughter echoed through the room, Vishaka's biting words from the previous day flashed across Pritam's mind: "I didn't hug you because I was desperate... nor are you that dashing."

Almost involuntarily, Pritam drifted toward the large glass panel near the filing cabinets, peered at his reflection, adjusted his collar subtly, and asked aloud, "Do I really not look that dashing?"

There was silence.

He turned back, only to find Nitin and Monty gawking at him, mouths agape in theatrical disbelief.

"What? Why are you staring at me like that?" Pritam asked, mildly defensive.

Nitin began dramatically, "Pritam Choudhary..."

Monty picked up the line, "...the Pritam Choudhary..."

Nitin continued, "...who's never once cared about his appearance..."

Monty added, "...is now suddenly wondering if he's dashing or not."

Nitin: "And where, might we ask, did this idea come from?"

Monty leaned in closer, eyes wide in mock suspense, "Who is she?"

Annoyed, Pritam snapped, "Oh shut up! Are you two Inspectors or reporters from a gossip channel?"

Nitin slung his arm around Pritam's shoulder with faux concern. "Pritam, buddy... we're just worried."

Monty joined from the other side, nodding solemnly. "Exactly. So be honest—who's the girl?"

Just then, Pritam's phone rang. He sighed in relief and gestured to the two to be quiet. "It's the DCP."

He answered and put the call on speaker. The DCP's voice boomed through the cabin, "Well done, Pritam! Brilliant work on catching the peddler. You've shown great courage and presence of mind."

Pritam smiled modestly. "Thank you, Sir. It's my duty. But honestly, this time... someone else played a key role too."

The DCP sounded intrigued. "Oh? And who might that be?"

As Nitin and Monty leaned in with mischievous grins, Pritam, hesitating for a moment, replied with a shy smile, "Sir... if it wasn't for that girl from VIPS—Vishaka—we wouldn't have gotten the lead we needed. She was instrumental in the whole operation."

Nitin and Monty raised their eyebrows simultaneously.

Caught in the moment, Pritam turned and saw their teasing expressions. He immediately turned back, flustered, forgetting he was mid-call.

"Pritam? Are you there?" the DCP asked. "You were saying something about the girl?"

Pritam cleared his throat and quickly composed himself. "Yes, Sir. I meant, she contributed significantly to the case. I believe the department should acknowledge her effort—it would set a great example for active civilian participation."

The DCP agreed wholeheartedly. "Absolutely. I'll ensure she gets the recognition she deserves."

As the call ended, Nitin and Monty crept closer, step by slow step. Pritam, sensing the danger, grabbed a file from his desk and pretended to read.

Nitin gave a theatrical cough to catch his attention.

Pritam remained focused on the file.

Then Monty noticed something odd. "Pritam... you're holding the file upside down."

Pritam blinked and realized they were right. Nitin and Monty burst out laughing.

"I wasn't reading it!" Pritam protested. "I was looking for... some... criminal's photo."

Nitin smirked. "Sure, sure. Just doing your duty, huh?"

Monty grinned. "Our duty too, Pritam—as friends. To guide our buddy who's clearly crushing on a girl."

Pritam threw his hands up. "Oh come on! There's nothing like that! Enough of this nonsense—go and get me the updated list of the other most wanted peddlers in the city. Go!"

Despite trying to linger, the duo was eventually pushed out of his cabin.

Once alone, Pritam let himself relax. His thoughts wandered back to Vishaka—their first unexpected meeting outside Mansoor Uncle's office, their run-ins, the heated banter, her stubbornness, her courage... and that unexpected hug.

He couldn't help but smile—genuinely, unconsciously.

But unbeknownst to him, Nitin and Monty had returned to their spying ways, peeping from the window with Nitin leaning on Monty for balance. Unfortunately for them, Monty tripped, and the two toppled over with a thud loud enough to give away their presence.

Pritam turned, eyes narrowed. "What are you two doing now? Spying on me?!"

"Retreat!" Monty whispered, and the two made a clumsy but effective escape.

Pritam walked to the door, double-checked that they were really gone this time, and only then let himself smile again—thinking of a certain stubborn, brave girl with a scooty and a sharp tongue.

A Few Days Later – At the Journalism Department

Vishaka sat across from her Dean, a hopeful smile playing on her lips as she handed over her application form. She had worked hard all year, and now she was here to officially submit her name for the Best Student of the Year award in the Journalism department.

But the Dean's expression remained unmoved as he set the form aside.

"I'm sorry, Vishaka," he said gently. "You're not eligible for the nomination this year."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She blinked in disbelief. "What...? But why, Sir? I—I've been consistent all year. I've done everything required."

The Dean offered her a sympathetic look. "You were supposed to submit a final project—something impactful. A piece that showcases your journalistic instincts and potential. Without that, we cannot consider your name for the award."

Vishaka sat frozen for a second as the realization dawned.

The project.

She had worked tirelessly on it—interviews, research, real-time documentation, video recordings. All of it had been stored in her phone. But everything was lost the day her phone was smashed during her tussle with the drug peddler. In helping Pritam Chaudhary crack the case, she had unknowingly sacrificed her biggest opportunity.

She walked out of the office slowly, numb. Once in the corridor, away from the stares, she leaned against the wall and let her emotions take over.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "All of this... all because of that idiot Pritam Chaudhary," she muttered bitterly. "I shouldn't have gotten involved in his mission. I should've minded my own work."

But as the anger tried to settle in, so did the memories.

Pritam's fierce commitment to his duty... his disgust for drugs... his raw honesty.

She remembered the first time she saw him—how she'd secretly admired him in her rear-view mirror while driving away. Then again, outside Mansoor Uncle's office, she'd turned back to steal a glance just as Nitin teased Pritam about his tone with women.

And every time after that—whenever Pritam tried to approach her with his awkward but earnest ways—she had dismissed him with her sarcasm, only to catch herself smiling at his retreating form.

A soft smile crept across her face through her tears.

"That Pritam... he's such an idiot," she said under her breath. "But his honesty, his hatred for drugs, that fire in his eyes... it's something I relate to. And no matter how annoyed I get... something about him just doesn't let me stay angry for long."

Her eyes fell on the application form in her hand—the same form that once held her dreams. She stared at it in silence, the weight of what could have been anchoring her heart.

With a sigh, she whispered, "But none of it matters now, does it?"

She slowly tore the form into pieces, the sound of paper ripping feeling far more painful than it should. Then, raising her hand, she let the fragments go. The shreds of paper fluttered down the corridor like lost hopes—dancing in the air, catching the light briefly, then falling.

Vishaka stood still, watching the bits of her ambition scatter and vanish... just like the chance of holding that award in her hands.

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To be continued

Chapter 4

Award Ceremony – Student of the Year

Vishaka sat quietly in a corner of the auditorium, far from the stage, her shoulders slightly hunched and her eyes fixed on the ground. Her friends urged her to come closer, to be part of the celebration, but she simply shook her head, signaling a silent "no."

The ceremony began with the Dean stepping up to the podium, warmly welcoming the guests and introducing the dignitaries. Applause echoed, speeches were delivered, but none of it registered in Vishaka's ears. She remained lost in her thoughts, staring blankly ahead, the disappointment of her dashed hopes still weighing heavily on her.

As the award distribution commenced, the Dean began announcing names of top students from various departments. Vishaka kept her head low, barely reacting, even as cheers filled the room. But when the Journalism department was announced, her heart skipped a beat. Despite herself, she held her breath.

Then, she heard it—her name.

Startled, Vishaka looked up, eyes wide. There, on the stage, stood Pritam Chaudhary, holding her trophy.

She blinked, not believing what she was seeing. A flush of surprise and warmth crept over her face as a soft blush spread across her cheeks. Before she could react, Pritam asked the Dean for the microphone.

Taking it, he spoke with calm conviction, his voice clear and firm.

"Vishaka is one of those rare students who deserves far more than just this award. We, as police officers, have sworn to protect our nation. It is our duty to catch criminals. But for a civilian like Vishaka, it's always a choice—a choice to take a risk or walk away. She chose courage."

From behind him, Nitin leaned toward Monty and murmured, "Isn't our boy complimenting her a little too much?"

Monty smirked. "True, bro. But as they say, everything's fair in love and war."

Unfazed, Pritam continued, "In helping me and my team capture one of the city's most wanted drug peddlers, Vishaka demonstrated not only bravery but a powerful sense of responsibility. I have no doubt she'll grow into one of the finest journalists in this country. I now invite Miss Vishaka to come on stage and accept this award."

The hall erupted in applause.

Vishaka, overwhelmed by his words and the sudden recognition, stood up slowly. As she made her way to the stage, her heart pounded—but this time, with joy. She felt like she was walking on air.

When she reached the stage, Pritam handed her the trophy. As their fingers brushed, a subtle jolt passed between them—an unspoken moment that made them both glance up. Their eyes met, and for a second, everything else melted away.

The cameras flashed as they posed together. Smiling, Vishaka leaned toward him and whispered, "Thank you... for making a lost dream come true. And, well... you're not as bad as I thought."

Pritam tilted his head, amused. "Oh? And how bad did you think I was?"

Vishaka chuckled softly. "With your brooding face and curt replies, I figured you were one of those hot-headed officers who treat everyone like suspects. But the more I saw your dedication... your disdain for drugs... I realized we're not so different."

Pritam raised a curious brow. "Really?"

She nodded. "For me, journalism isn't just a career—it's my first love. My only ambition. Nothing comes before it."

Impressed, Pritam's tone softened. "And the hatred for drugs?"

Her smile faded slightly. "I'm an orphan. I lost my family because they unknowingly consumed poisonous drugs. That loss... it shaped everything I believe in. I don't want anyone else to suffer the same fate."

Pritam looked at her in stunned silence. Her pain mirrored a part of him he rarely showed. And somewhere in that quiet exchange, something shifted between them.

As the photos were done, Vishaka turned to leave, but Pritam quickly called out, "Coffee?"

She paused, eyebrows raised. Behind him, Nitin and Monty widened their eyes.

Nitin muttered, "Isn't our boy moving a bit fast?"

Monty nodded. "Too fast. And we thought he was a love amateur. Turns out, he's a stealthy pro."

Vishaka smirked, arms crossed. "I thought Pritam Choudhary was allergic to cafés and caffeine?"

He grinned. "When the company's good, I don't mind ignoring a few allergies."

Her smile widened as she turned away, tossing over her shoulder, "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. Same café."

Pritam pumped his fist in silent triumph. "Yeh baat!"

As she disappeared into the crowd, he turned, only to find Nitin and Monty staring at him with folded arms and matching smirks.

Nitin crossed his arms. "So... you need good company, huh?"

Monty added, "Why not coffee with us, then?"

Pritam scoffed, eyes rolling. "Have you seen your faces? Would anyone want to share coffee with you two?"

Offended, the duo swung their arms, protesting dramatically. But before they could retort, Pritam waved them off. "Stop sulking and go prep the van. We need to get to the station."

Still grumbling, Nitin and Monty walked off. Pritam chuckled to himself as he watched them go, then glanced once more toward the exit.

From afar, Vishaka had paused. She turned to steal one last look at him, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

And as their eyes met across the room, both of them knew—this was only the beginning.

The story of Pritam and Vishaka had just begun to bloom.

--------

To be continued

Chapter 5

After the First Date

After their first coffee date, something shifted between Pritam and Vishaka. Their bond began to grow steadily—with each shared conversation, every laughter-filled exchange, and especially during their deep discussions about drug abuse and the dangers it posed to society. What had started as camaraderie soon evolved into something more tender, more intimate. Their shared values, particularly their fierce hatred for drugs, unknowingly tied their hearts closer.

One evening, after returning from yet another thoughtful date with Vishaka, Pritam entered the police station—only to find Nitin and Monty waiting for him like two hungry wolves.

Startled by their serious expressions, he slowed down. "Why are you both just sitting here staring at me like that? Don't you have patrol duty? Go finish what I assigned."

Nitin crossed his arms. "Of course we have work..."

Monty added, "...but it seems we're stuck doing it all while someone enjoys quality time with his girlfriend."

Pritam's ears turned pink. "Come on, can't you both do at least this much for your close friend?"

Nitin raised a brow. "We will... provided—"

Monty grinned. "—you tell us how far things have gone with Vishaka."

Pritam gave them a shy smile.

The sight left both of them stunned.

Nitin said dramatically, "We never knew the stone-faced Pritam Chaudhary—"

"—could blush, no less!" Monty finished, eyes wide.

Pritam chuckled and mumbled without thinking, "Well, these things happen when you're in love..."

There was a beat of silence before Nitin and Monty shouted in unison, "Love?!"

They instantly flanked him from either side like interrogators.

"So you admit it?" Nitin asked, nudging him.

"And we, your closest friends, get to know about it now?" Monty pouted.

Still blushing, Pritam stayed quiet, but his silence was answer enough.

Nitin leaned forward eagerly. "Now tell us...what's the plan?"

Pritam blinked. "Plan? What plan?"

Monty exhaled dramatically. "Have you told her how you feel?"

Nitin nodded. "What do you think she'll say if you do?"

Monty added, "Do you even think she likes you back?"

Pritam paused, genuinely lost in thought. "I don't know. Whenever she's around, I get so lost in her... I never really tried reading her reactions."

Nitin groaned and slapped his forehead. "Then go find out!"

"But how?" Pritam asked.

Monty looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Propose to her, duh."

Pritam blinked again. "Propose?"

"YES!" they said together.

He shook his head, already backing away. "No, no, no. You both know I'm not cut out for that kind of stuff!"

Nitin crossed his arms. "Too late, bro. You're in love. There's no backing out."

Monty leaned in with mock seriousness. "Otherwise, one day she'll marry someone else... and you'll be the uncle her kids awkwardly wave at during school functions."

That horrifying image made Pritam freeze. "No!"

"Exactly," Nitin said, patting his back.

"So let us plan everything," Monty added. "You just need to show up and say what's in your heart."

Even as they hyped him up—calling him IPS Pritam Choudhary, the fearless officer—deep down, Pritam felt something he rarely did: nervous anticipation. How was he going to pull this off?

The Proposal Day

Pritam arrived at the venue his changu-mangu had set up—and stood frozen at the entrance.

The place looked like Valentine's Day exploded. Red flowers draped across every surface. Balloons floated above heart-shaped candles. Soft music played in the background.

His jaw dropped. "What is this? Am I proposing to Vishaka or prepping for my first night?!"

Nitin and Monty, who had just arrived, looked embarrassed.

"This is how proposals work!" Nitin defended.

"Exactly," Monty added. "How would you know? Have you ever proposed to anyone?"

Pritam fired back, "And you both speak like you've scored centuries in romance."

They looked away, visibly flustered.

"Anyway, today isn't about us—" Nitin began.

"—It's about you," Monty finished. "So man up and don't mess this up."

Suddenly, Vishaka appeared in the distance. The boys quickly wished Pritam luck and disappeared—well, not entirely. They hid nearby to observe.

Vishaka looked around in awe. "Wow, Pritam... this place is beautiful. These decorations... it's all your idea?"

Pritam, who had just been complaining, straightened up and said smoothly, "Of course. All mine."

From their hiding spot, Nitin muttered, "Hmpf. Look at him taking all the credit."

Monty grinned, "Flip-flopper."

Back at the table, Pritam pulled out a chair for Vishaka like a true gentleman. Once seated across the candlelight, she looked at him curiously.

"So many arrangements... what's the occasion?" she asked.

Pritam panicked. "No! I mean—yes! I mean... when you're around, every day becomes special."

Vishaka laughed softly, touched by the gesture.

But she wasn't done. "Still... today isn't my birthday, nor any special day. So why all this?"

Pritam started sweating bullets. "Be... cause..."

From their corner, Nitin and Monty watched in suspense.

"Because what?" Vishaka asked.

In full panic mode, Pritam shot up. "I need to use the washroom. Excuse me!"

He bolted, leaving Vishaka staring in confusion.

From the shadows, Nitin and Monty dropped their arms in exasperation.

Nitin sighed, "He really ran away?!"

Monty shook his head. "This is going to be harder than we thought."

In the Men's Washroom

Pritam stood at the sink, splashing cold water on his face, trying to steady the whirlwind in his chest. His reflection looked more like a nervous teenager than a tough IPS officer.

Just then, Nitin and Monty stormed in.

Nitin folded his arms. "What are you doing, Pritam?"

Monty added, half-exasperated, "If not for yourself, at least think about the effort we put into all this."

Pritam sighed, gripping the edge of the sink. "I can't do it... it's not my thing."

"Not your thing?" Nitin echoed, incredulous. "You love her, man!"

Monty chimed in, "Exactly! So find your courage and go tell her. Don't forget who you are—you're Pritam Choudhary, IPS."

Nitin nodded. "The same Pritam Choudhary who never backs down from a challenge..."

Monty grinned, "...but is now terrified of telling one girl how he feels."

The duo gave him firm pats on the back. "Come on, Pritam. You can do it!"

Something shifted in Pritam. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and clenched his fists with determination. "Yes... I am Pritam Choudhary. I can do it. I will do it!"

And just like that, he stormed out of the washroom with fire in his stride, leaving Nitin and Monty exchanging proud thumbs-ups before trailing behind him like excited sidekicks.

The Confession

Pritam reached Vishaka and blurted out in one breath, "Vishaka, all these arrangements were done by my friends because I wanted to tell you something. Whenever I spend time with you, I feel amazing, and I've started really liking you. So... will you marry me?"

From the sidelines, Nitin and Monty groaned and facepalmed.

"We should've given him a crash course in proposals," Nitin muttered.

Monty shook his head. "Confidence without prep is dangerous."

Vishaka blinked, processing the avalanche of words. "Wait, what?"

Pritam suddenly looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him. He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze.

Sensing his discomfort, Vishaka decided to help him out. "So... Mr. Pritam Choudhary just proposed to me?"

Pritam cleared his throat. "Look, Vishaka... I'm not here to play around. I've never felt this way for anyone before. I genuinely—"

"I love you," she interrupted gently.

Pritam froze. "What?"

Vishaka smiled. "I said I love you."

Pritam's eyes widened as a deep blush crept up his cheeks. From afar, Nitin and Monty jumped and hugged like excited schoolboys.

"Yes! Mission successful!" they whispered and quickly stepped away to give the couple privacy.

Vishaka stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Pritam, resting her head on his chest. His heartbeat was loud, erratic, and unmistakably real. She smiled, content.

But she wasn't done teasing him.

"Pritam," she murmured, "I've been waiting for this moment for so long... and when you finally confessed, you just blurted it out like a traffic announcement. Couldn't you be a little more romantic?"

Pritam laughed softly, then suddenly dropped to one knee. He pulled out a silver ring from his pocket—the same one Vishaka had given him when they first met—and held it up with a twinkle in his eye.

"Romantic enough now?" he asked. "So, Miss Vishaka... are you ready to become Mrs. Choudhary?"

Her smile faded for a moment. She hesitated.

Pritam noticed instantly. "What happened? Just a minute ago, you were complaining I wasn't romantic. Now you're quiet?"

Vishaka bit her lip. "It's not about you... it's about me."

Pritam's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "I do love you, Pritam. But I'm not sure I'm ready for marriage yet. Remember what I told you? My career is my first love. Nothing—not even you—can come before that."

Pritam looked at her for a moment, then smiled calmly. "And who said I'd stand in your way? Vishaka, I'm not the kind of man who would clip your wings. In fact, I'll help you fly higher. Your dreams will be our dreams. What matters to me is being with you—sharing this life with you, side by side. I'll be your partner, not your obstacle."

Vishaka's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. His words weren't just promises—they were a reflection of the man he truly was.

Moved and reassured, she extended her hand toward him.

Without another word, Pritam slid the ring onto her finger.

His face lit up with pure joy.

A New Beginning

And so began a new chapter in the lives of Pritam and Vishaka—not just as lovers, but as two individuals who had found a rare bond: one built on love, respect, and shared ideals.

From that night on, their journey wasn't just about romance—it was about building a future together, hand in hand, without ever letting go of who they truly were.

----------

To be continued

Chapter 6

A Marriage of Hearts and Dreams

Pritam's family, consisting of his kind-hearted mother and wise paternal grandmother, had no objections whatsoever to his decision to marry Vishaka—despite her being an orphan. In fact, they were overjoyed that their beloved Pritam had finally found the love he truly deserved. Their happiness knew no bounds seeing the spark in his eyes whenever Vishaka's name was mentioned.

Meanwhile, his other family—his lifelong partners-in-crime, Nitin and Monty (fondly known as his "changu-mangu"), and his trusted confidant Mansoor Uncle—had already been enthusiastic supporters of his relationship. With blessings and encouragement from both his blood and chosen family, Pritam had no doubts about moving forward with the most important decision of his life.

A few months later, under an auspicious sky and surrounded by loved ones, Pritam and Vishaka tied the knot. Their wedding was not just a union of two souls, but a celebration of trust, friendship, and love that had slowly blossomed between them.

A Love-Filled Beginning

Married life for Pritam and Vishaka began like a beautiful dream. Their love was fresh, pure, and full of warmth. Every moment together—be it shared laughter during late-night conversations or quiet breakfasts in the morning sun—felt like a gift.

As time passed, Vishaka began to refocus on her academic and professional aspirations. True to his word, Pritam supported her wholeheartedly. He didn't just stand beside her—he walked with her, shoulder to shoulder. Her goals became his, and her success became his mission. Determined to ease her burden, Pritam took over household responsibilities, especially the cooking, so that Vishaka could devote herself fully to her dreams.

In a surprising twist, Pritam—an IPS officer known more for bravery than baking—transformed into a culinary wizard. His parathas became legendary, and his sabzis were a comfort after long working hours. Nitin and Monty were astonished by this evolution and would often tease him, saying he had become his wife's personal chef.

Pritam would brush off their jabs with a grin, never realizing how deeply he had embraced this new version of himself. But none of it mattered to him—Vishaka's happiness was his greatest reward. For a year, their world was full of love, laughter, and unwavering trust.

Until one fine day, everything changed.

The Turning Point

That morning, Vishaka woke up feeling unusually uneasy. Her stomach churned, and she rushed to the washroom to throw up—for the third time that day. Wiping her mouth and catching her breath, something suddenly struck her.

Her periods.

She hadn't had them in two months.

A cold wave of realization passed over her. Placing a trembling hand on her belly, she whispered to herself, "I hope what I'm thinking isn't true..."

Still lost in thought, she walked out to the dining room where Pritam was cheerfully flipping parathas.

He turned to her with a bright smile. "Good morning! Aren't you getting late? I made your favourite—hot parathas. Mom and Dadi went to the temple, so let's have a quiet breakfast before—" He stopped mid-sentence as he noticed the blank look on her face.

She wasn't listening. Her eyes were distant.

Pritam walked over, gently cupping her chin. "What's wrong, Vishaka? Why do you look so... worried?"

She met his eyes slowly. "Pritam... I think I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened in disbelief and then pure joy. "You're... pregnant?"

A wave of happiness swept over him. He stepped forward to hug her, but she held out her hand to stop him.

"Pritam, I don't want this child."

The joy on Pritam's face shattered instantly. Just seconds ago, he had imagined a new chapter in their lives—one with a little heartbeat joining theirs. Now, that dream dissolved like mist in the morning sun.

He stood frozen, his expression unreadable.

Vishaka gently took his hand. "Listen, Pritam... you promised me, remember? That my dream would be yours too. I'm not ready for this now. Not when my career hasn't even begun."

Still stunned, he managed to ask, "But why, Vishaka?"

She took a deep breath. "Pritam, I'm a journalist. My job will demand everything from me—just like yours does. I'll have to chase stories at odd hours, travel on short notice. How can I carry out my duties with a baby bump... or a toddler in my arms?"

Pritam looked at her—at the conflict in her eyes, the determination in her voice—and realized she wasn't being selfish. She was being honest. And brave.

After a long pause, he nodded, though his heart ached. "You're right... this child is ours, and so is the decision. If this isn't the right time for you, for us, then we'll do what we must."

Vishaka's eyes welled up. She hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Pritam... thank you for understanding."

He returned her embrace, holding her a little longer, hiding the tear that escaped from his eye behind a bittersweet smile.

When Dreams Begin to Collide

The next day, word reached Nitin and Monty about Pritam and Vishaka's decision. Both rushed to confront their friend, unable to process the news.

Nitin asked with visible frustration, "Pritam, haven't you always dreamt of becoming a father—especially after losing your own dad so young? Wasn't that your one unfulfilled wish?"

Monty added, "And now that the dream is finally within reach, why are you letting it go? Why are you tearing down your own happiness?"

Pritam took a deep breath, his eyes weary from the emotional storm he had barely begun to weather. "Yes, it's true. I've always longed to become a father. That dream was as sacred to me as my badge. But I also made a promise to Vishaka—to support her aspirations as my own. And I meant it."

He paused, then continued with quiet firmness, "She's the mother, and she has just as much right over this child as I do. We're not just husbands or lovers—we're officers of the law. The Medical Termination of Pregnancy Act, 1971 clearly states that a woman can choose to terminate her pregnancy without the husband's consent. Why? Because it is her body. She has to bear the physical and emotional toll—not me. Vishaka isn't ready for this journey, and I will not, I cannot, force her into something she's not prepared for. If she believes this child will stand in the way of her dreams, then I will stand by her... even if it means letting go of my own."

Nitin and Monty, moved by the maturity and empathy in Pritam's voice, exchanged a glance. Their initial anger melted into admiration. Without a word, they each stepped forward and wrapped an arm around their friend.

Nitin smiled, "We're proud of you, Pritam. It takes strength to love like that."

Monty added with a grin, "...and we still believe your dream of becoming a father will come true—one day, when the time is right."

The three shared a quiet, hopeful moment—PriNiMo, bonded not just by friendship, but by the unspoken struggles of the heart.

At the Crossroads of Choice

Later that day, Pritam and Vishaka sat in the consultation room of a reputed hospital, their hands nervously intertwined. They had informed the doctor of their decision, speaking with clarity and maturity about their reasons for not wanting to proceed with the pregnancy at this point in their lives.

The doctor nodded empathetically. "Understood. But before we proceed, I'll need to conduct a preliminary sonography. Just a formality to ensure there are no complications."

Vishaka nodded silently.

A short while later, the sonography was done, and both Pritam and Vishaka waited in the doctor's cabin, the silence between them heavy. The doctor entered, brows furrowed as she examined the reports.

Vishaka noticed the shift in her expression. "Doctor, is there a problem in going ahead with the termination?"

The doctor looked up slowly. "There's no immediate issue in carrying out the procedure. Medically, it's safe. But..."

Pritam leaned forward, voice tense. "But what, doctor?"

The doctor hesitated, choosing her words with care. "Mrs. Choudhary's uterine wall is extremely weak. It's honestly a miracle that she even conceived this time. I must be honest with you—if this pregnancy is terminated, there is a strong possibility she may never be able to conceive again."

The room fell into a stunned silence.

The doctor softened her tone. "I understand your decision wasn't easy to begin with. But given this new information, I urge you both to take some time. Discuss. Think it through once more before you proceed. This decision may impact the rest of your lives."

She left them alone with their thoughts, the soft patter of rain beginning to streak the hospital windows as the sky outside turned grey. It was as if nature itself reflected the emotional storm brewing between them.

Vishaka sat frozen, her heart torn. Pritam stared out the window, his face unreadable. And for the first time in their one year of blissful marriage, a crack appeared in the foundation they had so carefully built—misunderstanding had crept into their lives like a quiet shadow.

-------

To be continued

Chapter 7

A Rift in Paradise

Back at home, Pritam's mother and grandmother stood frozen in shock. Never in the past year of their marriage had they seen Pritam and Vishaka raise their voices at each other, let alone argue. But today, the warmth of their bond seemed clouded by a storm of differences.

"I don't understand what's so difficult to grasp, Pritam!" Vishaka said, exasperated. "I can't subject myself to the physical and psychological toll of pregnancy. It's going to derail my career, my future—it's too much!"

Pritam's tone was strained but steady. "You think I haven't understood? If I hadn't, would I have agreed to the termination in the first place? But the situation has changed now."

Vishaka turned away, folding her arms. "So what if we never have kids? We still have each other. And if it comes to that, we can adopt."

Pritam gently took her hand and looked into her eyes. "Vishaka, children aren't accessories we bring into our lives to kill time. They're a living part of us—our zindagi. They carry our legacy, even when we're gone. This baby... is the symbol of our love, of our journey. Maybe even the only chance we'll have. Do you really want to look back one day with regret, knowing we lost our last ray of hope?"

He paused and added softly, "Life isn't only about winning. Sometimes, letting go of one dream brings a joy we never imagined. Please, Vishaka... don't give up on this one."

Still conflicted, Vishaka looked away. The silence hung heavy—until Pritam knelt before her and said, "I promise you, apart from the pregnancy itself, you won't have to face anything alone. I'll do everything I can to make this journey comfortable for you. And once our zindagi arrives, I'll take on every responsibility—as both mamma and papa. Just trust me."

Tears welled in Vishaka's eyes. Slowly, she nodded.

"Thank you, Vishaka," Pritam whispered, holding her hands tightly. "Thank you so much."

She nodded again, and when Pritam pulled her into a relieved embrace, this time, she didn't hold back—she wrapped her arms around him and held on.

Seven Months Later

The months that followed saw the household revolve around Vishaka. Pritam, his mother, and grandmother spared no effort to keep her content—be it midnight cravings, mood swings, or emotional comfort.

But despite their support, Vishaka struggled. She couldn't shake the burden she felt—like her body had become a prison holding her back from her goals. Pregnancy, for her, wasn't a magical journey—it was a pause button on her ambitions. Her discomfort seeped into her relationship with Pritam, who was doing everything he could to cheer her up. Yet, her smiles grew rarer, and laughter nearly vanished from their lives.

Pritam noticed. And one day, determined to bring back her smile, he brought two garlic bulbs into the room while she was reading a book titled Coping with Pregnancy. As soon as she caught the pungent scent, she gagged.

"Pritam!" she groaned, turning pale. Before he could grab a plastic bag, she threw up—all over him.

Pritam stood frozen, eyes closed in mild horror, the mess soaking his shirt. Vishaka blinked at him and then, to both their surprise, burst out laughing—a long, hearty laugh she hadn't felt in months.

Still dripping, Pritam smiled through it. "That's what I've been waiting for. You know, you've only grown more beautiful during pregnancy. But that smile? That makes you the most beautiful woman in the world. You should wear it more often—for you, and for our junior."

Vishaka's smile faded slightly. "You know I never wanted this child, Pritam."

"I know," he said quietly. "But what's the point of revisiting that? We made our choice. Why dwell on what could've been, when we have something—someone—growing inside you now? Don't let this affect your health. Or the baby's."

She didn't reply.

Pritam leaned close to her belly. "Oye, junior Choudhary! Your mamma thinks you're going to be naughty and a whole lot of trouble. But I know you'll be her favourite soon. Now be a good baby and tell her so."

Suddenly, Vishaka gasped. "The baby... kicked."

Pritam's eyes widened. "Really?" He placed his hand on her bump, his touch tentative.

A second kick.

Both of them froze. Then, their faces lit up with joy as they felt their baby move for the first time. Pritam beamed. "Did you hear that, Mrs. Choudhary? Even junior promises to keep you happy—just like Papa!"

He smugly lifted his collar and added, "Now get ready for your baby shower, because once our junior is here, both of us will be your biggest cheerleaders in chasing your dreams."

Vishaka, for the first time in a long while, felt something shift within her—not just physically, but emotionally. Her eyes softened as she hugged Pritam tightly. He returned the embrace with equal warmth, his heart finally at ease.

Baby shower: The Last Promise

The baby shower was a vibrant affair. Relatives, neighbors, and close friends gathered to bless Vishaka and the little life growing inside her. Draped in a graceful saree with soft floral hues, Vishaka looked radiant. She received each blessing with a grateful smile, her laughter finally echoing through the halls again. Pritam stood silently at a distance, watching her with admiration. His eyes softened as he glanced at her baby bump and thought to himself, "Thank you, junior... Without you, I may never have won your mamma's heart."

Just then, his close friends and fellow officers, Nitin and Monty, approached, urgency written all over their faces.

"You're late," Pritam greeted, but one glance at them wiped the smile from his face. "What's wrong?"

Nitin lowered his voice. "Pritam, it's serious. It's about that major drug trafficking ring in the city."

Monty added, "The DCP has called us in immediately. He's following a fresh lead."

Nitin hesitated, "But if you take this up now, it could be dangerous—for you and your family."

Monty stepped in, "Think about Vishaka... your child. This case isn't worth risking everything."

Pritam turned to look at Vishaka one last time—laughing, glowing, unaware of the conversation a few feet away. Then, he faced his friends. "We took an oath the day we wore this uniform—to put duty before everything else."

They tried again to dissuade him, but he shook his head. "I know my family needs me. But right now, my country needs me more."

"What time did DCP call us?"

"11:30," Nitin replied.

Pritam checked his watch. "It's already quarter to 11. Let's move." Without glancing back, without a farewell, he walked away—leaving behind the celebration and an unsuspecting Vishaka, who kept looking around, wondering where he had gone.

Operation Invisible Enemy

At the DCP's office, the trio—Pritam, Nitin, and Monty—sat reviewing the new intelligence.

"This case is deeper than we thought," Nitin murmured. "Several officers who worked on it have disappeared."

Monty nodded grimly. "Some vanished without a trace. Their missing persons reports were filed, but not one of them returned."

Pritam, in his usual contemplative style, touched his nose and then spoke. "We're wasting time chasing shadows. We start with the peddlers."

"The city has multiple drug networks," Nitin argued. "How will we know which link leads where?"

"And peddlers won't come knocking," Monty added. "Where do we begin?"

Pritam took a deep breath. "Stop questioning and think. Who are the biggest consumers of drugs?"

Nitin blinked. "The youth."

Monty added, "Sometimes from unlicensed medical stores..."

"Exactly," Pritam said. "That's our starting point."

They agreed. But just before they headed out, Monty voiced the unspoken concern. "Pritam... what about Vishaka? Your child?"

A silence followed.

Pritam's mind wandered—his promise to Vishaka, her smile during the baby shower, the magical moment when he felt their child kick. A pang of guilt pierced through him.

He closed his eyes. "I'll manage."

Unspoken Distance

Pritam returned late that evening. The decorations from the ceremony were being taken down. His mother greeted him with a hint of disappointment. "Where were you, son?"

"I had an urgent meeting," he replied quietly. "Where's Vishaka?"

"She's resting in your room. She was quite exhausted."

He entered the room softly. Vishaka lay curled on the bed, sleeping peacefully. He sat beside her, stroked her face, and placed a gentle hand on her belly.

"I'm sorry I left, Vishaka. I wanted to be there for you, for everything I promised... but duty called. There are so many families torn apart by drugs—I can't ignore that. I hope one day you'll understand..."

He rested his head near her baby bump and, exhausted himself, slowly drifted into sleep.

The Growing Void

Days turned to weeks.

Pritam buried himself in the investigation. Sleepless nights, stakeouts, raids—his world revolved around catching the faceless enemy poisoning their youth. Meanwhile, at home, Vishaka's world began to crumble.

She grew more anxious, more irritable. Pritam's mother and grandmother tried to cheer her up, but the ache of emotional abandonment ran too deep.

She called Pritam often—but most times, he ignored or disconnected her calls. The silence grew unbearable. The promises that once comforted her had started to feel like lies.

Broken Promises

One night, when Pritam finally returned home, fatigue etched across his face, Vishaka confronted him.

"You said you'd be by my side, Pritam! That you'd take care of everything. But where were you when I needed you the most?"

"I was doing my duty, Vishaka. This case—"

"Enough!" she screamed, tears brimming in her eyes. "You didn't just ignore me—you made me feel like I was invisible. Like our child didn't matter. Like I didn't matter."

Before Pritam could say another word, Vishaka doubled over in pain. Alarmed, he rushed forward. She was in early labor.

A Life Begins

Thanks to the timely help of Pritam's family, Vishaka was rushed to the hospital. Hours later, Rahul was born—a fragile but beautiful boy.

Pritam held his son for the first time with trembling hands, tears slipping down his cheeks. Their zindagi. Their hope.

But Vishaka lay in silence, emotionally detached.

Complications had made her and the baby both weak, and resentment lingered like an unspoken storm.

Fractured Bonds

Back home, as the family tried to adjust to the new arrival, Vishaka's emotional wounds deepened.

One evening, she finally broke her silence.

"Why, Pritam? Why did you do this to me?" she asked, her voice quivering.

He tried to explain, but he couldn't tell her the details of the case. His oath bound him to secrecy.

His silence spoke volumes.

Vishaka exploded, "You begged me to keep this child! You promised you'd take responsibility. Then where were you, Pritam? Look at me! I suffered through everything—alone!"

Her raised voice startled Rahul, who began to cry.

Pritam rushed to pick him up, gently rocking him in his arms. "Please... feed him," he said softly.

Vishaka's eyes were cold. "No. I've done enough. You wanted him—you said you'd raise him. Now do it."

With that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Pritam stood frozen. The crying child in his arms, the echoes of the slammed door, and the silence in the house shattered something deep within him.

He looked at Rahul, his voice breaking. "Shh... it's okay, my son. I'm here. I'm here..."

He held Rahul close to his chest, tears flowing freely—over broken promises, over lost time, and over the cost of duty.

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To be continued.

Chapter 8

The Calm Before the Storm
(2020 – Seven Years Later)

Rahul had grown into a charming, bright-eyed young boy—a mirror image of his father. With his endearing smile and innocence, he had unknowingly become the binding thread between two hearts that no longer beat for each other.

Vishaka and Pritam's relationship had never healed after Rahul's birth. The chasm between them only widened as Vishaka's health steadily declined. Complications from childbirth had taken a toll not only on her body but on her spirit. Her long-cherished dream had slipped through her fingers, and in her pain, she blamed Pritam entirely for that loss.

They no longer lived as husband and wife, but as co-parents bound only by responsibility. The warmth that once sparked between them had cooled into a mechanical partnership centered around their son.

Yet, something unexpected had blossomed over the years.

Though Vishaka had once resented Rahul's very existence, she had slowly grown to adore him. His cheerful demeanor, his constant efforts to make her smile, and his innocent concern for her well-being chipped away at the walls she had built around her heart. He had succeeded in earning a place there—one Pritam, despite all his sacrifices, never could.

Pritam, for his part, had taken on full responsibility for Rahul. He became both father and mother to the boy, pouring every ounce of love and attention into raising him. With the support of his mother, grandmother, and his ever-loyal partners Nitin and Monty, he gave Rahul a stable, loving environment. Still, the emptiness in his heart lingered. His family tried—time and again—to heal the distance between him and Vishaka. But nothing worked.

Despite all that was lost between them, Pritam found solace in one thing: Vishaka had started to love their son. That, to him, was a sliver of hope... a sign that maybe, just maybe, not all was lost.

But fate had other plans.

The Devil Returns
(Just Days Before Rahul's Seventh Birthday)

The air was warm with the excitement of Rahul's upcoming birthday. Plans were being made, decorations discussed, and gifts selected. Pritam had promised to return early that evening, hoping to make up for lost time with a small celebration.

But while he was away at the station, an uninvited guest arrived at the Chaudhary residence.

He was a well-dressed man with a calm demeanor and an easy smile. Introducing himself as an old friend of Pritam's, he was welcomed in by Vishaka, Pritam's mother, and grandmother—none of them suspecting the danger that had just entered their home.

Back at the police station, Pritam was deep in paperwork when his phone rang. He picked up without a second thought.

"Hello?" he said.

A low chuckle echoed from the other side. A chill ran down Pritam's spine.

That laugh. That voice.

"Recognize me, ACP saheb?" the voice sneered.

It took Pritam only seconds to place it—the voice of the very man whose empire he had dismantled seven years ago. The notorious drug lord. The one he had thrown behind bars with no hope of return.

Pritam's tone hardened. "What do you want?"

The man laughed again, this time more cruelly. "I don't want anything from you. But you... you're going to want a lot from me."

Confused, Pritam was about to retort when he heard a familiar sound in the background—a soft, frightened whimper.

Then, a voice. "Papa..."

Pritam's heart stopped.

"Rahul?!" he shouted, standing up so abruptly his chair crashed behind him.

The officers outside rushed to his door, alarmed. Nitin and Monty were the first to enter.

"Mr. Chaudhary," the voice hissed. "Your entire family is with me. If you want to see them alive one last time, come home. Alone. And don't you dare bring your men with you. One wrong move, and this will be the last time you hear your son's voice."

The call ended with a cold finality.

Pritam stood frozen, his fingers still gripping the phone that now showed Number Unavailable. He frantically tried calling back, but the number was already switched off.

With a guttural cry of rage, he hurled the phone across the room and slammed his fist onto the desk.

Nitin rushed to him. "Pritam! What happened?"

Pritam's eyes blazed. "He's back. That devil from seven years ago. He has Rahul... and my family."

Monty gasped. "What?! Are you sure?"

"He called me. I heard Rahul's voice. I have no time to waste."

Nitin stepped forward, "We'll come with you."

"No!" Pritam barked. "He warned me—if I bring backup, I may never see them alive again."

"But—" Monty protested.

"I said no!" Pritam cut them off. "I need you both to manage the station and keep the media and higher-ups off this for now. If something goes wrong... then step in. But not before."

Without another word, he grabbed his coat and raced out of the station.

As the doors shut behind him, Nitin and Monty looked at each other, their expressions a mixture of fear and determination.

The war from seven years ago was far from over.

And this time, it was personal.

The Price of Duty

At the Choudhary Residence...

Chaos had settled into silence—a suffocating, terrifying silence.

Vishaka, Pritam's mother, and his aging grandmother sat tightly bound to chairs, their mouths gagged with cloth, helpless tears streaming down their faces. Their eyes darted around in panic, searching for hope.

Rahul's cries pierced the stillness. He sat sobbing uncontrollably on the lap of a monstrous man who wore the mask of calm but carried danger in every movement. He caressed Rahul's head mockingly, feeding on the boy's fear like a vulture savoring its prey.

And just then, the calm shattered.

Pritam's SUV tore through the main gate, crashing into the compound with a screech. He barely let the vehicle halt before bursting out, sprinting into the house like a man possessed.

What met his eyes froze him mid-step.

The man—that man—sat arrogantly in the middle of the living room like a king on a throne, Rahul trembling on his lap. Behind him stood his armed henchmen, aiming guns at Vishaka, Amma, and Daadi.

Pritam's gaze locked with Rahul's tear-soaked eyes. The boy reached out, sobbing, "Papa!" Arms stretched desperately toward his father.

Pritam charged forward.

But before he could get close, the goons blocked his path, forcing him back with their rifles. Two of them grabbed and restrained him. Pritam struggled, his eyes blazing with fury. "Let go of me! Your fight is with me! Face me like a man! Leave my family out of this!"

The man rose slowly, Rahul still clutched in his arms. He stepped closer to Pritam, face to face, eyes dripping venom.

"Tsk, tsk... ACP Chaudhary," he sneered. "Didn't you read my file before challenging me all those years ago? You should've known—I don't play fair. I never forget. And I never forgive."

Pritam snarled, his chest heaving. The goons held him tighter.

The man turned toward the three tied women and grinned. "Pairi pauna, Mummyji... Dadiji..." Then his eyes darkened as they slid to Vishaka. His grin twisted. "So this is bhabhiji," he drawled. "Must say, ACP sahab... exquisite choice. Bhabhiji is... stunning."

Before anyone could react, his hand moved lecherously toward Vishaka, trailing across her cheek.

Vishaka recoiled, struggling against the ropes. Her eyes flared with disgust and fear.

"Don't you DARE touch my wife!" Pritam thundered. "I swear—"

"Swear what?" the man cut in mockingly. "What can you do?" He turned back to the women and said, "You all must be wondering why I'm here. Let me enlighten you."

He walked leisurely in front of them, arms out like a performer taking center stage. "Seven years ago, ACP Pritam Chaudhary destroyed my empire. Raided every den. Burnt my stock. Dragged me to court and locked me behind bars. All for what? Duty."

He paused, turning to Vishaka. "Your husband chose duty over his own family. That's why I'm here."

Vishaka's eyes met Pritam's—betrayal and heartbreak swimming in them. The weight of past wounds reopened. She remembered how distant he had become, how their love had crumbled beneath the crushing weight of his badge.

Pritam looked back helplessly, silently pleading for understanding.

"But don't worry," the man continued, "I'm a fair man. I'll let you, Pritam, choose who dies first. Who's your favorite? Your son? Your wife? Your daadi?"

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH THEM!" Pritam roared, voice cracking with rage.

The man laughed—loud and cruel. "Your confidence is admirable. Let's test it."

He walked up to Vishaka and leaned forward.

But before his filthy hand could reach her again, Pritam exploded into action. With raw rage fueling him, he broke free from the goons' grasp, elbowed one in the gut, spun and disarmed another, then fired.

One. Two. Three.

The goons fell, one by one.

Pritam snatched a fallen pistol and aimed it straight at the man's forehead. "I warned you," he growled, breath ragged. "Touch my family again, and you won't leave here alive."

The man raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. Take your precious family." He signaled his remaining goons. "Untie them."

The men hesitated but obeyed. Vishaka, Amma, and Daadi were freed. Pritam stepped forward, his arms open. "Give me my son."

The man smiled faintly and slowly stretched Rahul toward him.

Just as Pritam reached for him—crack!

A rod slammed into the back of his head. Pritam staggered, disoriented, the room spinning. He heard muffled screams—his son's, his wife's—but his vision blurred, and he dropped to his knees.

The man crouched beside him, whispering, "You can't outplay me, ACP. You never could."

Then came the beating. Fists. Boots. Steel.

Pritam groaned as his body gave in.

"You wanted to cleanse this city of drugs?" the man hissed. "Now watch as those same drugs ruin your world."

From his suitcase, he pulled out packets of white powder and, to the women's horror, began force-feeding them to Rahul.

"NOOOO!" Pritam tried to scream, but blood filled his mouth. He watched in helpless agony as the monster forced the substance down his mother's throat, then Daadi's.

He approached Vishaka next.

Suddenly—BANG!

A gunshot rang out. The man froze. His head jerked up.

The house swarmed with officers.

Nitin and Monty stood at the front, guns drawn, expressions fierce. "DROP IT!" Monty shouted.

The man raised his hands, but it was too late.

Constables surged forward, tackling the remaining goons to the ground. Chaos erupted—guns clashed, furniture shattered—but in minutes, the threat was neutralized.

Cuffed and defeated, the man was dragged away screaming.

Nitin and Monty rushed to Pritam, who now lay motionless on the floor, bloodied and barely conscious.

"Pritam!" Nitin called out, kneeling. "We're here, brother. You held on. You saved them."

Pritam opened his eyes faintly. Through the haze, he saw their faces—blurred, but real. Safe.

He smiled weakly. A tear slipped down his cheek.

Then his eyes closed.

---------

To be continued